Being oblivious comes natural to us

Nimeni nu are memorie de elefant. Nici elefantii nu cred ca au memorie de elefanti, cine a intrat vreodata in mintea unui elefant sa verfice ce tine el minte si cum? Elefantii utia, si elefantii sunt uitati, chiar si cei mari si rosii si saltareti. Dar nu de elefanti vroiam eu sa aduc vorba, ci de amintri si memorie. Ce e interesant este ce alegem fiecare sa tinem minte, sau mai bine zis, ce alegem sa ne aducem aminte, ca de tinut minte... tinem mai multe decat ne amintim intr-un anumit moment.
Cu cartile: uit cui si ce carti dau eu cu imprumut, si desi tin mult la cartile mele si vreau sa le am multi ani de acum incolo, vreau si sa le dau la cat mai multi, mai ales pe cele mai bune. Dar nu uit niciodata de cartile pe care le-am luat cu imprumut. Am doua carti de vreo 5 ani de zile luate... nu m-am mai intalnit cu persoana respectiva de atunci, dar imi aduc aminte de ele din cand in cand.
Sunt prin definitie dezordonata si aiurita, nu pot tine ordine in casa mai mult de 2 zile. Am obiceiul de a uita de lucrurile care trebuie facute. In cautarea telefonului care suna, graba mare, observ un bon cazut pe jos din vreun buzunar sau din geanta, imi spun ca nu pot sa il ridic chiar acum, dar imi pun post-it mental, trebuie neaparat sa il ridic cand termin de vorbit. In secunda doi uit. Si daca e numar gresit si nu vorbesc nimic, pana am inchis telefonul am uitat complet. Si voi trece pe langa bonul ala de inca 5 ori cel putin pana ma hotarasc in sfarsit sa il ridic: il vad, imi aduc aminte ca am uitat de el si uit din nou imediat.
Uit sa imi iau pasta de dinti. In dimineata asta am stors ultima picatura din tubul strategic de rezerva. Stiind ca am obiceiul sa uit sa cumpar cand se apropie finalul unui tub, am unul pus bine, folosit pe jumatate in caz de urgenta si necesitate, care ma poarta intre doua cumparari. De data asta l-am terminat si pe el. Azi dimineata, pusa fata in fata cu realitatea spalatului pe dinti, am redescoperit lipsa si l-am stors cu greu (din nou), l-am presat cu periuta pana a ajuns subtire de tot si am reusit sa mai scot cat pentru o folosire. Cred ca data viitoare il tai si adun cu periuta de pe pereti... Ajunsa in magazin am o senzatiederanjanta ca trebuie neparat sa iau ceva, si ajung sa iau de cateva ori ultimul lucru pe l-am uitat. Deci vrand sa iau pasta de dinti, imi refac de exemplu stocul de zahar, ba chiar am mai mult decat am nevoie chiar acum. Si cand o sa raman fara ulei... o sa imi iau multa pasta de dinti.

I, myself, fear me

We all have our fears. I have many myself. But my biggest is not of something out there, not of someone out there, I fear me. I fear you can't handle me. I won't let you know all there is to know because I don't think you can take it. It's not that I don't trust you, it's that I don't have faith in me. I failed and disappointed me numerous times. So I'll tell you only bits and pieces of me. I'll let you see only what is safe, and what I can no longer hold back.
And anyways, I would not know how to do things right even if wanted to. I tried bullring it out. The result is usually something too strong or too little, it gets misunderstood, it's scary and leads to endless apologizing. I tried thinking long and thoroughly, make a structured list of ideas that I need expressing. When it is time for them to come out, they may come out all forced and artificial and fake; or I may forget and mix them up, or just barely stutter them unconvincingly, all ending in a quiet blushed me with big watery eyes. Or I can just shut up, keep it all inside until there is no point in saying or doing anything because it's way to late and it's all lost for good, or too far in the past to hurt anyone. I can end up grateful I held my tongue, or endlessly regretting having missed that small window of opportunity to come clean.
They are all good approaches if used with caution and in the right circumstances. Sometimes all you should do is say things out loud, impulsively, unpredictable, chaotic and most of all honest; other times you should build up a case, prepare arguments, think things through; and at some point it's better to just shut the hell up, turn around and walk away. I just usually fail miserably when it comes time to choose one and I end up making a big mess of things.

Chaos all around

There's a strange sense of chaos surrounding me these days. I feel like nothing makes sense and I'm just a spectator for all things going on around me, like nothing really touches me. It's like one of those weird dreams when you see yourself from the outside and you just watch, without any power to change anything. And people's faces seem to just fade out in the scenery. I had a dream last night, finally a dream with a him I don't know. He had no name, no face. There was no history there, no explanations, no fears. No questions, no answers.
There is chaos on my desk, in my apartment, in my head. I cannot concentrate, I have done nothing worthwhile at work or at home in the last few days, and hours seem to just slip by, and days too. But there is a strange comfort in that. Chaos means no pressure. Pressure comes form trying to order chaos. Pressure comes from trying to ask questions you don't really want answered. Pressure comes from having to throw answers you do not have, or do not want to have.

Gustul asta imi suna cunoscut din vedere

Am azi o senzatie ciudata care vine din cand in cand. Binecunoscuta si nebinevenita. O senzatie ca pielea mea s-a facut mica mica dintr-o data si nu mai incap in ea si trebuie sa ma misc cat mai mult ca sa imi fac loc mie langa mine, o senzatie ca lucrurile de langa mine din fiecare zi imi sunt straine, o senatie ca ma uit prin oameni si ei nu ma vad pe mine, o senzatie ca mainile mele nu-mi mai apartin si sunt doua bete caudate care atarna si se misca aiurea si fara vointa mea, o senzatie ca timpul trece pe langa mine ca un melc batran si turbat, incet si totusi repede, o senzatie ca orbitele mele nu mai sunt incapatoare pentru ochii mei care o sa sara acusi prin ochelari, o senzatie ca am ceva de facut dar nu stiu ce, o senzatie ca e ceva in fata mea, pentru mine, pe care eu nu il pot vedea dar trebuie neparat sa il vad, ca altfel o sa plece, o senzatie de mancarime la nivelul buricelor degetelor, o senzatie de cosmar ca deschid gura sa strig si nu ies decat litere surde si transparente, o senzatie ca nu stiu unde am fost si incotro sunt, o senzatie difuza de nervi, fara o sursa sau directie definite, o senzatie ca am plecat de undeva si am uitat ceva foarte important acolo, dar al carui nume nu mai exista in dictionarul meu, o senzatie atat de colorata incat e tranparenta.